Out of Breath
by PurpleDusk18
Summary: The Dark Lord was defeated, but the battle had another casualty-Albus Dumbledore- and with him died all the Order's information. Including that Draco Malfoy was a spy. HD slash


A/N: This idea popped into my head, and I needed to write it down lest it be lost. I'm not abandoning my other story, and suspect this one to take a bit longer to write. Hopefully some of the roadblocks I hit in my other story will not happen again. How can I get better if I don't continue to try?  
  
"Draco Lucius Malfoy is found guilty on all charges and is sentenced to the Dementor's Kiss. The sentence shall be carried out at dawn."  
  
Except he wasn't, guilty, that is. Oh, he'd done everything they had charged him with, but he had done it for the Order. Harry knew this, knew it like he knew his own name, but could do nothing about it. Dumbledore had died. He died fighting Bellatrix Lestrange in the last battle, and with him died every shred of evidence that Malfoy had done anything. Harry didn't have any proof, and even if he had struck the killing blow, it was his word against hard factual evidence. Malfoy had done the things he was charged with. There was nothing Harry could do. Honestly, he didn't have to do anything. He had done his bit for the war, more than his bit. There was no reason to protect someone who had done nothing but torment him for seven long years. There was no obligation here, no debts to be paid. And yet...  
  
And yet he knew that if he let Malfoy's soul die, his body living to a respectable age as long as someone remembered to feed him, Harry would never be able to live with himself. He could see Malfoy, and even from across the dark courtroom he looked beaten. Harry studied the other boy as he made up his mind. He started with the splotch of purple, which faded to a rough gray, and again into a dull yellow, and spread over most of what was once a stark white check. He noted the gray eyes looked sunken into black lumps of coal, and his hair had clumped together, the remnants of gel collecting dirt from days without being washed. Continuing his examination, his throat caught just a little to see the torn clothing, pants tied around a too thin body, shirt tenting as he sat there, accepting fate.  
  
The boy who sat in that chair in front of his accusers was not Draco Malfoy, tormentor of Harry Potter and all things Gryffindor. That was someone who had done what was right, and was being hung for it. If anything, Harry had to do whatever he could to return Malfoy to his pristine condition, and let that be his penance. Knowing that, despite everything he'd done to him, Harry could still be the bigger person.  
  
Harry watched as Malfoy stood, defeated, and was walked from the room, probably to the cell where he would stay that night. Knowing that, no matter what he decided to do, this was information he needed he followed silently behind as he was led away.  
  
Harry had spent the last year learning how to hide in the shadows. Dressed in black, as he was today, it was not exactly hard. People were streaming from the courtroom in all directions, and it would be easy to say he'd gotten confused and mistaken this door for an exit. The door opened, and it was like stepping in to a maze, but following the aurors as they dragged Malfoy to his cell, Harry was able to keep track. Left, right, forward for a bit, left again, and finally, third door on the right. The corridor was dark, and the door to Malfoy's cell guarded. Harry took note of the two aurors standing on either side of the door. They wouldn't be there when Harry came back, but who ever was standing guard would have to be dealt with. Placing a hand on the cold stone wall, Harry slowly backed up, to rejoin the shadows. He made another mental note of the path, and increased his pace as soon as he was safely out of range.  
  
He slipped back into the courtroom, and was relieved that he had not been seen. Now, though, he needed some kind of plan. He left the courtroom and settled himself down on the hard bench that lined that side of the hallway.  
  
After his fifth year the War for the Wizarding World had come to the front. There was no transition; apparently Dark Lords were not concerned with things like summer holidays, or grieving. The Order was able to elude him long enough for Harry to train, and Harry had done so. He had become the machine of the Ministry. The hardest trained, the fasted, the best so that he could kill that one being who had done such wrongs that a trial would be ludicrous. He had forsaken Quidditch, time with friends, and even pieces of his own heart to the cause. He had realized something, amongst the mess that was the last to years of his education. The things he was doing were only considered good because he fought for what was right. If the world were judged by truly objective standards he should be the one in that cell, awaiting the death of his soul. There was no doubt in Harry's mind of that. And now it seemed he was no longer needed here. No, he could not be an auror, he was too identifiable, there were no teaching positions open; no one wanted him anywhere. He had briefly considered politics, but it seemed that, while the Wizarding world was quite willing to let him prevent irrevocable doom, they did not want him running their country. The only job Harry would be offered was one signing the pictures from Witch Weekly.  
  
So how would Harry do this thing? Surely he would be found out, and Malfoy would not be safe any where near magic. This task would take time, and time was something they didn't have. Perhaps saving Malfoy was the first step. If Harry could get him out and lost in a crowd of muggles they could help each other from there. Living in the moment was something Harry could do. Heartened, he went off the get some necessities.  
  
Muggle money, lots of muggle money. The exchange rate at Gringotts was high, but there was nowhere else to go. Harry had given over his key, and had the entire contents of his vault turned to pounds. It was amazing to see all those galleons turn to bills (figuratively speaking, of course) and soon he was out with a magically shrunken case in his pocket, and the explanation that he intended a long holiday now that the war was over. Just how long, though, he had not told them.  
  
Checking money off the mental "to-do" list Harry took a quick sojourn into muggle London for two things: muggle clothing, and a car.  
  
Car first. He took enough cash from his pocket-trunk to pay for a decent car (or so he hoped) and enlarged it. After changing into appropriate muggle clothing he had apparated himself to behind a tree that was around the corner from a likely looking place. It was a Volkswagen dealer ship on New Southgate. Ghosting through the choices he came to one he rather liked the look of, and went off to find an employee.  
  
Coming up behind a heavy-set balding man, probably middle aged, and tapped on of his shoulders. "Sir, I'd like to buy that car, can you help me?"  
  
Surprised, the man turned around and looked up. Harry was a smidge taller than almost anyone he came in contact with. "I'm sure we can work something out, which car was it?"  
  
Harry gestured out to the lot, "That one, right over there."  
  
"The gray Touareg?"  
  
"Sure"  
  
"Well, let's go see what we can..."  
  
"Sir, to be honest I really just want the car. What ever it costs, I'll pay cash." Harry was impatient. He still had stops to make if he was going through with this.  
  
The man, however, looked like dubiousness was warring with a predatory excitement. He simply shrugged, however, and led Harry back to his office. Harry busied himself with his plans while the man searched out the price.  
  
He should, if he were quick, be able to have sufficient supplies for them to escape. What was important was the timing of the thing. Harry knew how this type of "execution was carried out. The two aurors standing guard would be called in as witnesses, and the Kiss would be administered. Such things were not open to the public as they were disturbing, to say the least. If he could get in before the Kiss was given, but just after guards left their post he would be in the clear. Was it worth it, though? If he mistimed the thing there was so much at stake: Malfoy's life, for one, Harry's ability to live with himself, for another.  
  
"Ahh, Mister?" The dealer interrupted his plans.  
  
"Irvine. My name is Harry Irvine." Harry winced inwardly. It was stupid, using his first name, but then Irvine was a common enough name there could be quite a few Irvines, what was the big deal if one named Harry paid cash for a car?  
  
"Mr. Irvine. It looks like the car will cost twenty thousand pounds, if you want to drive it off the lot today."  
  
"I want to drive it off the lot in the next hour, if that's doable." Harry said stoically. The man seemed to be turning this over in his head. He would probably come to the assumption that this could be a "don't ask; don't tell" kind of deal, and as long as he was paid there was no reason not to sell.  
  
Less than thirty seconds later Harry was handed a clipboard where he signed on the needed lines, and the entire sale took moments. The man's eyes goggled as he saw Harry count the many bills, but he stayed in his seat. After being given plates and keys, Harry was on his way.  
  
He didn't stop again until he was outside a muggle department store. This would be a bit trickier, but he assumed he could get some ambiguous clothes, and if Malfoy wanted something more his style he could pick it up himself afterwards. Yes, it looked like gray sweatpants and black t-shirts would be keeping Malfoy in vogue for his escape from death.  
  
Paying the sale's assistant Harry was out the door. He parked his car about six blocks from the entrance of the wizard court building entrance (which, unlike the entrance to the ministry, was open, but looked like an abandoned factory, not a phone booth), and apparated to his hotel where he'd been staying since Hogwart's graduation. Looking about he knew they wouldn't be able to stay here, too many people knew that Harry was staying, but he knew he would miss the first place he had stayed on his own, completely independent, even if it was just a wizard's inn. Harry snatched his invisibility cloak, and he already had his wand on him. He didn't think there would be anything else they could use, they needed to blend in as much as possible. Finally prepared, he sat on his bed, and began to watch the time tick by on the wall clock.  
  
He was really doing this. Risking all he'd ever wanted to save someone who had done nothing for him. When he thought it over, though, this was just the next adventure. His first had come and gone, and maybe now what he really needed was a way out. Somewhere the people wouldn't care who he was. Maybe he could carve a life out for himself. He and Malfoy would only need to stay together long enough to get settled and free. Then he would give him some cash and they could go their separate ways. He was doing this to soothe an achy conscience, not make a new friend. Making sure he had an alarm set for four in the morning, Harry lay out on his bed, and enjoyed the sleep of the innocent one last time.  
  
* *  
*  
  
How, could anyone wake up happy when the alarms made such a maddening noise? It beeped and blared, and got louder and louder until Harry turned it off. Bleary eyed he got himself dressed in some of the clothes he'd bought the day before, and then he remembered why he'd bought them ~Malfoy! Shit! ~ He was awake. Grabbing his invisibility cloak he was out the door and apparating to the building where Malfoy was about to meet his fate.  
  
Harry made his way back down the corridor, invisibility cloak on, walking the path he had followed the other day. This was not the time for second thoughts and retreats, which was fine; he didn't have any. Somehow he knew this was the path his life was taking, for good or ill, and he was following this path.  
  
The guards were gone, which meant they were in the room. Picking up his pace Harry made his way to the door. His heart was beating almost out of his chest, but his mind was clear. Seeing that large mouth centered and diving for Malfoy's oily blond head, he screamed "Expecto Patronum!" and watched as charge of this situation left his hands, and the fate of them both would rest in the hands, or hooves, of Prongs. 


End file.
